Free The Heroic Baron by Nikki Poppen Page A

resins.”
    “The violin is a family treasure,” Alain commented.
“Are you the only one who plays?”
    “I am now.” Cecile’s voice was sharp. She regretted
her tone. She couldn’t blame Alain for what he didn’t
know. As an olive branch, she picked up her bow. “Many people forget how critical the bow is to a quality
violin. The violin is nothing without a bow. This is perhaps the real family treasure. It’s a bow by Tourte. He is
renowned for his inventions on the bow” Her face
flushed with enthusiasm. “See how there is varied
thickness? Tourte made most of his bows out of Pernambuco wood. A true Tourte bow is twenty-seven and
nine-sixteenths of an inch. The thick end is four and a
half inches long with a diameter of three-eighths of an
inch. Then it gets progressively thinner until the head
of the bow is only one-eighth inch.” Cecile fingered the
bow. “He made fancy bows laid with gold; this one is
not one of those, but it’s still a Tourte”

    “Very impressive, you are both a musician and a
scholar.” Alain complimented her.
    “I am afraid I run on too much about the instrument.
I hope I haven’t bored you.”
    “On the contrary, I am more intrigued than ever. I
have business awaiting me this evening, so I’ll bid you
bon soir and see you tomorrow afternoon” Alain bent
over her hand.
    It wasn’t until Alain had departed that Cecile realized she’d forgotten to be mad and insist he not call on
her. That was what one got for being bowled over by a
kiss and a compliment. He’d admired her violin, and all
thoughts of whether or not she should associate with a
potential scoundrel fled out of her head. Which may
have been precisely what he’d intended all along.
    Life was getting complicated. Alain had never been
so glad to leave a party, or as unwilling. Cecile had
been positively entrancing with her sharp retorts. He had not planned on kissing her, but there had been little
choice when presented with her tempting defiance in
the grove. Her passionate response had been intoxicating, and if he hadn’t been so cognizant of the dangers
surrounding him in the general’s home, he might have
dared to take their ardor to its logical conclusion. But
danger was stalking him.

    The secretary had turned out to be a problem. Pierre
Ramboulet had been excited to hear news of his relatives’ safe relocation in England, but he’d protested
against going with Alain. There were others he wanted
Alain to take to safety first, more family members that
might be harmed by his disappearance.
    Alain did not know how long he could support his
identity as Captain Stanislawksi. Major Von Hausman’s
speculations at dinner had been a crack in the facade.
What if Von Hausman contacted his friends and told
them his impressions of the Captain? What if a friend of
the major’s came to visit and inadvertently ran into him?
The longer he stayed, the riskier his situation became.
    The longer he stayed, the more he’d see of Cecile,
who was going to demand the truth from him. The
longer he stayed, the more he’d want to tell Cecile the
truth as dangerous as that may be. He had no real reason to believe he could trust Cecile with the truth. If
events came to a head, Cecile might feel obliged for the
sake of her future security to side with her employer.
The general had made it clear that traitors would not be
tolerated. Motrineau would certainly not tolerate the
presence of an English baron in his midst with the express purpose of assisting the person Motrineau wanted
to ferret out.

    It galled him that Cecile believed him wholly capable of such injustice as arresting the Panchettes. Her
distrust of him had been evident in the accusations
she’d flung at his head in the grove. He wasn’t sure how
to convince her that he wasn’t a puppet of the New
Regime, but perhaps accompanying her on her rounds
tomorrow would be a start. In the meanwhile, he had an
evacuation to